


The Bright Side Of Subterfuge

by utsushiame



Category: NG (Visual Novel)
Genre: Addiction, Bickering, Gen, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Post-Canon, Referenced Gore, Smoking, Swearing, Tsunderes, a family can be two assholes and a wad of yen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21562153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/utsushiame/pseuds/utsushiame
Summary: Everyone has ulterior motives. Knowing that has kept Akira alive and well throughout the years.However, no-one said those motives had to be bad.
Relationships: Kijima Akira & Ban Naomasa
Comments: 7
Kudos: 36





	The Bright Side Of Subterfuge

Akira was growing to hate the sight of the Moon Tower. The neon lunar design had almost been a pleasant sight once, a break from the otherwise monotonous buildings that Akira passed on his journeys through the district. It was a beacon of sorts, reliable even when the actual satellite was obscured by clouds.

Now, though, whenever he saw the fake moon looming above him, his head was filled with images of death. Bloody corpses, mangled flesh, murderous animal heads. The body of a woman slashed to pieces before him, again and again. Childish voices emanating from a horrible amalgamation of flesh. Bad enough that his sleep had been robbed by those gruesome memories, but they had the gall to seep into his everyday life too.

That explained why, when he stopped his motorcycle and knocked its kickstand down, Akira was in a fouler mood than usual. He dumped his helmet on the bike, at least thankful for the cool breeze on an otherwise balmy summer night. Still a month away from when the tree's leaves would start to fall. Akira wasn't usually one to take note of the weather, but between the blisteringly hot summer this year, and the biting cold that had followed the spirits in their wake, he just wanted some damn regulation.

Awaiting him at the edge of the overpass was the man who'd called Akira out in the first place. Ban's head was tilted back, his shaded spectacles covering most of his eyes, but Akira could feel his sharp gaze regardless. Smoke trailed from a cigarette between his lips, which he removed with the same hand that he used to greet Akira with a small, somehow patronising wave.

Asshole.

Akira took his time sauntering over, recalling the phone conversation that had put a dent in what would otherwise have been a peaceful night.

_ "Hey, you free right now?" And then, before he could reply, "Got something important to talk about, if you can swing by Moon Tower." _

_ "Hold on." Akira scowled, diverting his attention away from the magazine in his lap. "Don't even think of getting another loan from me. It won't be yen I'll be handing out." _

_ "Jeez, have a little respect for your elders. It's to do with Kakuya's Game." His attention peaked, Akira didn't bite back as he heard Ban sigh over the phone. "You can blame the Amanome brat. He's been giving me the run-around; it's easier to go through you." _

_ Brat indeed. He'd get a piece of Akira's mind later. "Fine, whatever. Give me an hour and I'll head out." _

_ "I'm a busy man, kid, don't keep me waiting." _

_ "And I'm not busy? Piss off." *click* _

Kakuya, too, was something that Akira was sick of being reminded of, but Ban wouldn't have brought it up just to reminisce on the good times. Life had gone back to the usual, more or less, but a loose end or two was to be expected, even with Seiji and Ooe pulling their strings.

Still, Ban looked awfully carefree considering the subject matter. "Half an hour over estimate, kid. That's a few more hundred on the info fee."

Akira glared. "So what is it?"

"Not even a hello for your good pal? Sheesh." Taking a drag of his cigarette, ignoring the violent gleam growing in Akira's eye, Ban fished something out of his breast pocket and held it out to the teen.

It was a sheaf of photos. Akira took them and shuffled through the pile. They were all taken in near pitch blackness, so the details were mostly incomprehensible, but occasionally Akira would spot a point of recognition. A dress shirt with tie. A bow atop a beret. A pair of gloved hands.

It was the three of them- Akira, Seiji, and Kaoru- when they'd been sniffing around the Urashima Lake. "So you did have these."

"Mhm. Your buddy was right though- on their own, they aren't clear enough to indict any of you." Ban shrugged. "Still, held onto them in case I got my hands on anything more damning."

A friendly reminder that Ban hadn't always been on their side- and would probably swap back again if the price was high enough. "And you're just giving these to me?"

Ban took a long drag, then puffed out a cloud of smoke that coiled around itself like a snake. "No reason to hang onto them." he said, voice hoarse from the smoke. "Nothing else ties you to the Urashima murders; all those would get you are a few hours down at the station. And that's not inconveniencing anyone enough to pay up."

"I guess."

"What, you don't believe me?"

"Don't believe that there's no strings attached to these? Yeah."

With a harrumph, Ban crossed his arms, twin tails of smoke puffing out from either side of the cigarette hanging between his lips. "Ain't gonna stop you if you insist on paying me back, but really, those things are just wasting space. Useless information is worse to me than none."

"Is that really something a journalist should be saying?" Akira muttered, then shrugged and stuffed the photos into his pocket. "Whatever. Is that everything?"

"Why the rush? Thought you weren't busy."

"I'm not. Just don't wanna waste any time here."

"C'mon kid." Ban stared him down with an expression that was almost familiar- not dissimilar to a teacher about to give a lecture. "Last time I was here you'd just spent a month hunting down spirits. Can't blame me for wanting to know if anything crazy's happened since then."

"Nope. Everything's back to normal."

"'Normal' being Yakuza-funded underground matches?"

Akira's scowl sharpened. "How'd you know about that?"

"Wasn't hard to find out, kid." With a final puff, Ban took the stub from his mouth and ground it into the railing he was leaning against. "Even caught one of your matches. You always fight guys twice your size?"

"If Amanome can find them." A lightbulb flashed inside his head, and Akira squinted at the man suspiciously. "Were you there to bet on me?"

With a short, sharp laugh, Ban flicked the butt down into the underpass below. "Not lacking in confidence, I see."

"I figured you'd have done your research. I haven't lost a match- it's easy money."

"Exactly." Ban stared past Akira with a gleam in his eye that was all too familiar to the fighting junkie. "There ain't no thrill betting on absolutes. If I want the money, I write an article. Knowing you could lose everything just as easily as you could win it: that's what gambling's about."

He hated to admit it, but Akira knew exactly what Ban was talking about. There wasn't any excitement to a fight if he knew for certain that he was going to win. They were going about it in different ways, but both were chasing the same high.

"Yeah." was all Akira said, however. He didn't like empathising with a gambling addict, even if he was someone who'd used his 'talent' to help Akira in the past. "So wait... if you weren't there to gamble, then why were you scoping the matches out?"

"I said, didn't I? A Ghostbuster-turned-street fighter would catch anyone's attention."

That's what Ban said, but his eyes were somewhere off to his right. According to Seiji, you had to watch out for those who couldn't maintain eye contact. That's why the little shit always made sure to look you in the eye when he was lying his ass off.

So was Ban gathering dirt on him? That was the most logical conclusion he could think of, but Akira couldn't puzzle out why. Maybe hoping that Akira would divulge some of the Yakuza's secrets, but he barely knew any, and Ban had to know that Akira knew the Yakuza well enough to not double cross them.

Financial blackmail, then? Ban knew the matches paid him well, and he'd certainly proven that he wasn't above needling Akira for gambling funds. Had his addiction got that bad in the few weeks since Akira had last seen him? Disgusting.

Movement brought Akira back to reality, and he watched as Ban nodded to himself, muttering something under his breath that Akira's ears picked up without problem.

"It's all fine then. Still, no harm in checking..."

Akira tried not to make it obvious that he'd heard while also puzzling out what Ban meant. He'd been checking Akira for something? Maybe it was related to that Kujou guy. He'd probably want to keep an eye out on anyone who'd interacted with spirits as much as he-

Wait.

_ Wait. _

A sudden memory floated to the surface: Rosé and Ban arriving at the Black Rabbit after Akira had been released from the police station, Ban joking about the experience, and then Rosé saying that he'd... offered up a prayer...

Akira's expression scrunched up. "You were _worried_ about me?"

"Huh?" Ban's head tilted down, his eyes squinting at Akira from above the rim of his glasses. "What was that?"

"I don't need some old man checking up on me."

"Wh- What in the hell made you think that?!" Ban was blustering in a way that was, again, far too familiar to Akira; too many times where Seiji had caught him in a lie and all he could do was trip over his words.

"Then what were you doing at the match, huh?"

"What do you think a reporter was doing at an illegal Yakuza fighting ring?! Not everything revolves around you, punk..." 

"Then where was that excuse a minute ago?"

Flinching away as if Akira's words had physically hurt him, Ban huffed heavily and then drew himself up to full height, his composure regained. "Alright, you little brat, fork it over."

"Hah?"

"5k for the photos. If you're gonna be a moron then I'm taking compensation for my time."

"I told you what I'd do if you tried to bum off me, old geezer!"

The two continued spitting threats back and forth... and, as had happened each time, Akira got fed up with arguing over trivial shit and fished out his wallet. "I'm serious, you bother me again and your teeth are meeting concrete."

"You're real scary kid." Ban had a smirk of triumph on his face, and it was taking all of Akira's willpower not to wipe it off. Why was he even restraining himself in the first place?

Whatever. Now he could be done with this sentimental dick and back to the comfort of his bed. He grabbed the helmet off his bike and yanked it on, sparing Ban one last glare before he slipped the visor down. "Go pester Amanome next time."

"Yeah, yeah." Ban's smirk didn't drop as he tucked the money into his pocket. Akira's eyes rolled into his head. It'd be too much effort to go over now and slug him. Better for him just to leave.

It was only after he'd started the engine and roared off, Ban quickly becoming a silhouette in the distance, that he realised he'd have to get in touch again if he wanted his yen back. And Ban had probably been fully aware of that too.

_Fuck_ , he sucked at talking to people. He could already see the gleeful grin on Seiji's face once he found out about this.

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to that one random YouTube comment about Akira and Ban having a father-son relationship. Thanks 4 killing me.
> 
> I'd planned a scene where Akira tried out one of Ban's cigarettes, and a more direct reference to Ban's actual kid, but eh, kinda ended up flowing past it.


End file.
